


To Grow Old

by Tarlan



Category: Highlander (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1996-10-01
Updated: 1996-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-08 12:25:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4304982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this back in October 1996 and it was published in a zine called <b>The Agony Column #4</b></p>
    </blockquote>





	To Grow Old

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this back in October 1996 and it was published in a zine called **The Agony Column #4**

The sun streaking through the dark-tinted glass blatantly flaunted promises of a beautiful day but the lone man huddled near the dying embers of a small fire recognized it for the lie it was. Since that final environmental disaster all days seemed bright and promising but the seductive rays held an invisible yet deadly secret.

Five months had passed since that fateful day when all living creatures caught out in the open had been exposed to a lethal dose of radiation.

Who was to blame?

Connor McLeod shook his head. Humans had been pouring their filth into the sky for generations - polluting the land, the sea and the air with the excrement from their manufacturing industries. It was a laser experiment that had finished a job started centuries before; Man playing God, trying to control the weather but instead it had started a chain reaction that dissipated the ozone layer within 42 minutes. Millions had died and millions more filled the makeshift hospitals with their endless rows of beds, their pain too great to elicit any more than a whimper from their radiation-ravaged throats.

McLeod turned away from the fire and moved back across the room until he stood next to the large bed. It was empty and his mind drifted back to when it had been filled with the warm and loving presence of his wife, Brenda. They had shared so little time together before a stupid car accident had taken her from him. He sighed raggedly as he remembered dragging his broken body from the burning wreckage, knowing his beloved wife was already dead. He had cried in relief, certain that he would soon join her but it was not to be. Before his horror-stricken eyes he watched the lacerations seal themselves, the bones re-knit and the severe burns fade away to leave him unmarked. On that day he had cursed the Gods. After his fight with the Kurgan he had believed himself to be 'the only one' but his own continuing existence proved the presence of at least one other immortal on this world.

Many more heads had rolled beneath his blade since that day.

It was a simple cut from a piece of paper that had convinced him it was finally over. The cut, though tiny, had been painful but he remembered watching the raw wound for many hours marveling at the clean edge that refused to close. Since then other signs had presented themselves - twinges of pulled muscles, a new crease added to the laughter lines at the corner of his eye. Somehow, he had survived the Gathering. Now he possessed the thoughts and knowledge of all the Immortals who had been exiled to Earth and with that knowledge came images that parted the mists in his own mind. Now he had most of the answers he had searched for through the long centuries. He knew who he was, what he was and how he had come to be on this planet far on the western spiral of the galaxy.

McLeod ran a hand along the crumpled bedclothes, his fingers remembering firm, warm flesh and laughing dark eyes that.... His eyes misted with remembrance and, quickly, he turned his thoughts away from his loss before the barely suppressed tears could fall. He had wanted to grow old and die with her.

Since her death he had devoted himself to saving all life on Earth using the knowledge he had amassed over the centuries both personally and through the power of the Quickening. In a few hours time they would test the Shield. It was the last remaining hope for mankind, although McLeod had no allusions as to what it would feel like to live beneath its amber glow. A new generation would grow up having never seen the stars, the Moon or the Sun, and the older generations of man would have to live with the fading memory.

With infinite care he reached out for his sword and slid it into the sheath sewn into the strong lining of his beige raincoat. He didn't believe he would need it for, as far as he was aware, he was the last of his kind to walk the Earth, but old habits die hard.

McLeod wandered over to the window to stare into a cloudless, azure blue sky. He pulled a pair of black leather gloves from his coat pocket and slipped them on as he could no longer allow exposure of his skin to the burning sun. The harmful radiation that was no longer deflected by the ozone layer would damage him as surely as if he were human. McLeod chuckled softly to himself - but he was human now. When the last head had rolled he had set in motion his own biological clock. Now he would age at the same rate as the humans. He would grow old and, eventually, he would die - unless he returned to Zeist.

As always, thoughts of Zeist brought a rush of memories. In his mind's eye he could see again the endless stretches of sand reaching towards the high, granite mountains. McLeod had led the attack against the advancing army of General Katana, watching in anguish as his men fell prey to the superior weaponry of the opposition. Throughout the battle he had fought side-by-side with his friend Ramirez until they had found themselves surrounded by their enemy. With a sickening feeling clawing at his stomach, he had dropped his sword and had waited for the final blow to land as, all around him, his men were systematically beheaded.

McLeod pushed away the memory and frowned as one thought remained. The General had ordered the beheading of all the rebels - so why had he been taken alive? He shook his head in confusion. Perhaps Katana had hoped to use him as an example to any others who had ideas of ending his rule, but the priests had disgusted the General by ordering exile rather than execution.

He sighed and gazed once more through the dark-tinted glass. Zeist was just an old memory dredged up from the basement of his mind. He had spent the past five hundred years on this world, watching loved ones grow old and die. The knowledge of his true identity had done little to change his mind. Earth was his home - not Zeist.

A warm sensation spread out through his entire being. Now it was his turn to grow old and die - and if the human gods were kind - soon he would be with his loved ones for the rest of eternity.

And Zeist? Well, if he had wanted to rule a world, then he would have taken Earth.

END

 


End file.
